


Home Is Where the Heart Is

by Eleniel_Celair



Series: To Your Heart's Content [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eleniel_Celair/pseuds/Eleniel_Celair
Summary: (Named reader Elen for flow purposes - 1st person reader/Thorin fic.) This is my first everything so please be kind with me ❤A Numenorean/Dwarf half-breed is welcome to Erebor, but it only goes so far. Love is a complicated thing, but life is not so short as to be wasted pining for what you can't have. Fate can be a cruel thing or a kindness, depending on your perspective.





	1. Return to Erebor

**Author's Note:**

> First fic! Here are a few things...
> 
> Dwarves chime of age around agree 45, Numenoreans around 25. Numenoreans live to be around 350-400, dwarves 150 ish To 250. Canonically Balin is younger than Thorin but I love his old man face in the movies and want him to be my grandpa, so there. 
> 
> Please excuse my chaos. I'm so nervous. I never let people read anything I've written so this is terrifying haha.

     It had been nearly 20 years since you last laid eyes on the great gates of Erebor. You smiled fondly at the memory of a then-young princeling climbing the walls in an altogether improper determination to watch your caravan disappear into the hills beyond his sight. The moment you crossed into the grand city, you dismounted your pony and stopped to take it in. The bustle of the market was familiar and calming for your damned nerves that refused to think of anything but seeing him. It was those thoughts that had you so completely distracted that you didn’t notice the dwarrowdam coming at you until she had you in her arms, squealing in joy.

  
     “Dís!” you exclaimed, suddenly flooded with the same pure excitement she greeted you with.

     “Oh, Elen, I’m so glad you’re here! I barely recognized you!” She squeezed you one more time before dragging you behind her, forcing you to look back and make a helpless shrug at your caravan, and the grumpy man in the front shook his head in annoyance.

     You followed Dís down a series of grandiose corridors until you reached the wing meant only for the royal family. It was so nostalgic; a series of doors that would intimidate most brought you near to tears for the memories you had here with the princess and her two brothers. Sure they were nothing short of infuriating at times, but they were the closest thing you had to siblings for nearly thirty years. You grew up with them, and they grew in your heart even in their absence.

     “Wait here. It’ll just be a moment.” Dís said giddily standing you just outside the door to her suite. You nodded, itching to find out whatever surprise she had in store for you.

     Within seconds you heard voices rounding the corner. Your breath hitched as you recognized the eyes the voice belonged to – the soul the voice belonged to. Thorin. He had grown so much since you last saw him. From a somewhat thin young dwarf with a mess of a beard and no clue or no care to brush his own hair, to the majestic prince before you. His hair now flowed black as midnight, his beard long and proud. If Dís barely recognized you, Thorin definitely did not. His face grew brooding and promised one of his typically terrifying bouts of anger.

     “Who are you and what are you doing in this wing? Guards, teach this Human her place.” He snarled. As much as you hated the idea of being locked up, you couldn’t stifle the small chuckle that escaped your lips. Thank Mahal Dís had the good sense to hurry her errand. She rushed into the hall with a dwarfling who must’ve been but 5 years of age, chittering on at him about some mess he had made, before she noticed the absolutely frigid air of her brother.

     “What on Arda are you doing, brother?” She laughed.

     “Dís, do you know this girl?” He rumbled. Oh you could get used to his now baritone voice.

     “Better than that, Thorin, you know her.” She set her fists on her hips, willing him to remember. But before he had the chance (which honestly could have taken years) a wee voice piped in.

     “Mama, can I introduce myself yet? I want to play with my new axe!” The little lad behind Dís asked, tugging at her skirt.

     “Oh Eru, is this Fili?!” You gasped, completely forgetting the presence of Thorin or his threat of punishment. “I’m Elen, but you can call me Aunt Elen, since your mother is so like a sister to me.” And then you remembered, as the hall fell in silence. Hesitantly, you raised your eyes back to Thorin who looked at you like a ghost. His lips parted as if to speak, but still silence loomed over the hall.

     “Why don’t you go inside, dear one, and play with that new axe. I’m sure this will be the sort of fun only grown ups enjoy.” You said softly. As soon as the door shut behind him, Thorin grew the nerve to speak.

     “Alone.” was all he managed, before grabbing your wrist much like his sister had.

     “You’re no fun!” Dís shouted after him as you disappeared into yet another series of halls.


	2. A Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elen is young and new to the mountain. She craves the outdoors, and freedom. An unsuspecting victim will help her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long story short, I've written up a few different parts of Elen's storyline and this is her backstory. Please enjoy!

     You were only seven years old when you left Numenor. Your parents had business with the men of Dale, but as busy and wide open as it was they felt it better to leave you with an old friend of theirs in Erebor. Master Balin was a kind dwarf who took the time to explain all sorts of wonderful things to you, from the braids in his beard to the intricate knots and runes carved carefully into the stone of the walls. He made sure that anyone who met you knew you were under his care, but even so he had his duties as adviser to the King Under the Mountain. You were only supposed to be there for a few weeks, but when your mother fell ill, weeks turned to months and months to years. Master Balin (or Uncle Balin as you took to calling him) had a room prepared just for you as soon as it became clear that you would be here for a while. Father visited when he could, but usually only to leave the next day and return to your mother’s side.

    One particularly gray day, when all you longed for was a window and some fresh air away from the smell of fire and metal, you decided to explore. It isn’t that you hadn’t wanted to before, but you had been told not to and as much as you tried to follow rules and keep out of trouble, you missed air. Real air. You missed the sight of the sea. You missed home. Balin was busy with the King and would be for a while it seemed, so you snuck out of your room, abandoning the small pile of scrolls that usually kept you so peacefully busy, and made your way down hall after hall trying to remember exactly what each rune said. It was this focus that kept you from noticing the fact that you were in a completely unfamiliar wing of Erebor. Or the young dwarf that suddenly grabbed your shoulder.

    “Explain yourself.” He barked, the fire in his eyes untamed. He couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, but he held himself with pride.

    You flashed with panic for a moment before realizing you had to answer the question.

    “Elen...” you curtsied instinctively before adding, “at your service.” remembering the Dwarven customs.

    He raised an eyebrow and you remembered there was a bit more to be said.

    “I’m… lost...” you admitted.

    “That much is clear.” he chuckled, “Where do you mean to be?”

    “ANYWHERE with a window!” You covered your mouth realizing you had spoken to eagerly and far too loudly. He laughed louder this time, and mussed your loose hair.

    The next thing you knew he had led you through a series of corridors into a fairly small (compared to the rest of the keep) room with shelves of books and scrolls and one wall that was nearly entirely made of a glass window. The view was spectacular, and though they lacked a proper sea, Dale and its surrounding lake were enough to go on for the moment. You pressed your forehead to the cold glass, unable to see the dwarfing behind you smile.

    When you had finally satisfied some of the longing in your heart, or moreover when you realized Balin would be coming back to your room to check on you any moment, you looked at the dwarf again.

    “I have to get back.” You said, your eyes suddenly wide with fear.

    “What’s wrong?” He asked, suddenly at your side.

    “Uncle Balin is going to be furious if he finds out I’m not in my room!”

    He chuckled again, his icy blue eyes sparkling. “You’re very entertaining, Elen. I hope you’ll come back as often as you wish. I’m rather bored these days.”  

    You nodded happily, and he led you back towards your room, making note of each turn so you could find your way the next time you needed a window to the outside world. When you reached your door, his head cocked slightly.

    “Numenorean?” He whispered. It was hard to tell what he thought of you for it, but you shrugged it off.

    As you reached for the door knob, he grabbed your arm one more time.

    “I’m Thorin.” He beamed. If you had known who Thorin was at the time, or if he had announced his full title, perhaps you wouldn’t have gone back to the window after that day. But you didn’t, and he hadn’t, so you did.

\------------

    Thorin brought his little brother and sister in to meet you as soon as he could, and they treated you like a sister. Dís was your age, though significantly shorter, and Frerin was barely walking. Dís said he was three. You had never had friends in Numenor - it wasn't proper for you to go romping about and the few girls who would come visit you had no good intentions.

    It didn't feel like long until you knew every scroll in that room backwards and forwards. Prophecies of reincarnations, records of kings and queens of old, even a few recipes that you were sure were placed there accidentally. Dís and Frerin came often, looking through the records and laughing at ones that had to do with Dwarves they knew of. Apparently their great-uncle Fror had snuck into his father's chambers one night and threw the crown into the chandelier hanging over his bed. King Dain had been so furious, he made all THREE of his sons polish gems for a week (because Thror and Gror should have stopped him before he made it out of their chambers.) Thorin would come sometimes and you would "trade languages" as you called it; he would teach you Khuzdul (Adad had only taught you how to call him and how to say "I am not a tree." - a very useful phrase) and you would teach him Adunaic. The similarities shocked you both, and you were speaking constantly in each other's tongues. 

    Fifteen years passed like the flicker of a candle. You grew as tall as Thorin, though Dís and Frerin remained a few inches shorter than you both, and you reveled in it. And then came Durin's day, and a very unexpected visitor.

\----------- 

    "My star," Your father cried as he held you in his arms, "It has taken her." 

    You were stone. You wanted to cry for you Amma, but you were also coming to the realization that you could not forgive your Adad for abandoning you for  _ fifteen years.  _

    "What, then?" You asked, rigid in his arms.

    "We must take her body back to Numenor to be with her family." He said weakly. You were beyond angry. 

    "No. This is my home. I will not leave." 

    "You are twenty-two, of course you wish to stay put, but this is for Amma. And besides, don't you want to see your old friends? We can return once the Mourning is over.” He pleaded. You didn’t care.

    “You are a child.” He growled. “You  _ will _ come with me and you  _ will  _ see your mother buried. No more arguments.”

     And there were none. You would leave the next day and there was nothing more to it. Except goodbyes. 

     Saying goodbye was difficult, and even more so when it came to the family you had come to call your own. 

     Dís rubbed your arm in reassurance, "We'll see you soon, Elen." You tried to smile. 

     "There's not much fun to be had without you, El." Frerin frowned. He pinched himself before looking up, "But we'll be fine, I guess."

     "Yes, you will." You laughed, but then it was Thorin's turn and you felt a different pain than you had before. This was deeper in your heart - in a crevice you didn't know existed.

     You looked in his eyes and watched him work out exactly what to say. "You'd better come back... soon..." He said pensively. There were words in his eyes that you couldn't make out. 

     "I'll write..." You whispered, and he hugged you despite all the rules. "Goodbye, Thorin."

     Balin tore you from Thorin for a hug of his own. "Elen..." His voice quivered, "You stay strong and bright and good, now. And don't forget to send me a raven as  _soon_ as you're settled." He smiled through his tears, looking less put together than you'd ever seen him. 

    "Oh, Uncle Balin, you know I won't forget you." 

\------------

      The trek from Erebor to Númenor would take weeks, but the first mile was the longest. You kept looking back to see your friends, and kept getting batted on the head for it by your father, but every thump was worth it. You etched the gates into your mind, willing yourself to return as soon as you could. Little did you know, your father had other ideas.


	3. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Thorin and Elen finally talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these chapters are so short but I'm hoping to make up for it by posting often. This chapter is a continuation of Chapter 1. And thanks for the kudos, y'all!

     “Well, I guess if you had to forget one or the other, I’m glad you forgot my face.” You chuckled. Thorin looked pensive, and you realized the joke was a little too cutting for the moment.

     You looked out the window. Oh the memories you had in this nook. You thought of the days you and Thorin would pore over maps and ancient texts together, arguing about meanings and applications until one of you called truce. You had no choice but to  smile at the fact that you both could get so worked up over something so silly.

     “You don’t look ill.” You said, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence. Thorin looked at you in confusion.

     “Dís… she wrote saying you were on death’s door.” You admitted.

     “And so you came to see me off?” There was a bitterness to his words that stung.

     “I had obligations in Númenor. But yes, I dropped everything and came because I heard you were sick. I did promise to come back…”

     “You weren’t going to, though.” His eyes were fixed on you, the look in them too much to bear, so you you moved your gaze to your feet.

     “You stopped writing.” You started, the breath still caught in your chest.

     “You told me to.” He rumbled.

     “I suppose I did...” your gaze drew back to the window and over the river. You would have said more, but the thoughts were too rapid to sort out. Everything was a blur of frustration, anxiety, and hopelessness.

     “I am sorry I was not present to welcome you to Erebor.” He said in his most polite political voice. “And for being so… in the hallway...” You chuckled again, and his eyes met yours for the briefest moment before he turned and walked out of the room, colder than the stone beneath your feet.

 

     The groan you let out as you sank into the window seat once more was meant only for the satisfaction of releasing some of your frustration, but to your dismay, a familiar face hobbled in at that moment.

     “Elen, my dear!” He said, cheerfully setting himself on the bench next to you.

     “Oh, Balin, what am I doing here?” You set your face in your hands. If anyone knew the way out of this, it would be Balin.

     “You’re coming home, is what!” He poked your shoulder.

     “Home?” you looked at him incredulously, “My home is in Numenor… at least it’s supposed to be.”

     “Home is where the heart is.” He nodded, “and if that’s in Numenor, then ye best be packing back up. But if it’s right here, in the memories and friendships you’ve been long neglecting -” he arched his brow at you, “ye’d better not waste a moment finding out. And maybe wear something a little more flattering if yer gonna be seeing the dwarf yer in love with.” he added.

     You would have feigned ignorance or offence, but it was useless with Balin. He placed his hands on his knees and made a singular snort as if to say he’d been successful before standing and taking his leave. Much as you hated anyone else being right, you couldn’t do anything but accept his words. You couldn’t find the words or the heart to tell Balin what you had left behind. If you couldn’t find a way past not only your own peoples’ customs but those of the Ironbeards, you would have to take the heartache and move on.  
     

Your finger traced the panes of the window overlooking the smooth blue of the Celduin river which cut through the wild green and brown of the surrounding wild. Something in that image haunted you, calling you to the road, but you had unfinished business yet in Erebor.


	4. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elen's past comes back to haunt her.
> 
> ***Trigger Warnings for this chapter include abusive relationship and edging at non-con.***

The door to your small cabin creaked open, seemingly by itself. The New Islands of Numenor, as the dozens of Numenoreans who worked to tame them now called them, seemed to grow wild with fruit. And yet a darkness lay in the water, something that called to you, promising the home of your ancestors. You walked out into the forest, plucking the flowers you found on your way to place them on your mother’s grave. Suddenly a hand was on your shoulder,

“I will own you.” Your breath caught and your blood ran rampant as the snakelike voice whispered in your ear. 

You turned to face the vile man your father promised you to when the world spun and your eyes opened to the comforts of Erebor. You had nearly forgotten your intended until that nightmare reminded you to fear. 

“No one will own me.” You whispered roughly, your brows furrowed. Even if he did know where you had gone, he would be mad to treat you like that again. Or perhaps his madness would lead him down a darker path. But you would not return against your will again. 

The morning would not wait for you to finish those thoughts, so you dressed and met Dís on your way to the kitchens. 

 

“You alright, Elen?” She asked, sensing your strange mood.

“I’m fine…” You started, “And so is Thorin apparently.” She immediately halted, covering her mouth. 

“Look, it really isn’t that big of a deal, Dís. I get why you did it, and I can’t blame you. Honestly I should really be thanking you… If it wasn’t for that letter I don’t know if I ever would have gotten the courage to…” You wanted to tell her. To express all the fear and guilt building inside you, but somehow there were too many words to be said. It was too difficult to start.

“To show up again?” She supplied, “You know you would be welcome here even if it took you two hundred years to show up.” The look in her eyes told you she was being sincere. “Even if I would be nearly dead.” She added.

You laughed with her and the two of you grabbed a basket full of delectable looking pastries, meats, and cheeses. 

“I know what’ll cheer you up.” Dís winked, dragging you (yet again) through the halls of Erebor to a large room filled with dwarves caked in sweat and dirt.

“BROTHER!” Dís called, and a blonde head twisted to look at her. Frerin. Dís was right. If anyone could cheer you up, it was Frerin. The moment he saw you his entire face lit up. He nearly tackled you, but Dís stopped him short with a rag.

“You wouldn’t dare touch anyone in that condition!” She gestured for him to clean up, which he accepted with the biggest eye roll he could manage. You couldn’t help but laugh at his obvious annoyance.

The moment Frerin was deemed “clean enough”, he hugged you so tight you thought your eyeballs might pop out. You laughed, though tears fell against your will, and Frerin looked at you as though half your face was hanging off.

“What’s wrong? What did I do?” His fumbling around like an idiot only made the situation more hilarious and ridiculous at the same time. 

“It wasn’t you.” You choked out. That was the greeting I wanted from Thorin. Even if he didn’t have feelings for you, just to know that he was happy to see you. That you were welcome. That you were home. 

You and Dís kidnapped Frerin from his training and the three of you took your picnic to one of the only green areas on the mountain. You spoke, giving as much information about your life as you could while skirting around the topic of your betrothal, but Frerin wasn’t so fooled.

“Your description of the island has me wondering if it’s heaven or hell. It sounds beautiful and depressing at the same time!”

“No, it’s… it’s not that.” You waved your arm around as if it would make all of the thoughts go away.

“Then what? Because there’s something dark looming over you that wasn’t there before Numenor, El.” His eyes seemed so intensely steady that you knew you wouldn’t win. Dís was eyeing you at this point as well, wondering what this dark secret was. 

“Look…” Even thinking about it made you feel sick and weak and scared; things you didn’t like to admit. “This isn’t something I can talk about yet. And talking won’t change things. I just have to fight.” 

 

After that day, the three of you got together often, but neither Dís nor Frerin brought the subject back up. You had pushed the dark thoughts into the recesses of your mind until a few weeks later when you woke in the middle of the night.

A feeling of dread poured over you, so pervasive you couldn’t move. The fire was nearly dead, barely giving light to your room. If it wasn’t for those embers you wouldn’t have noticed the figure standing at the foot of your bed.

“Come to run back to your little friends? They are nothing. You are mine.” Zorzagar chuckled, and you wanted to throw up, though you couldn’t move. It was then that you realized he had tied your hands to the bed posts, and you managed to let out a shrill cry.

“Oh come now, pet, I wouldn’t dare do anything… yet.” You could hear his enjoyment over your fear and it made you so angry. Obviously he came to some sort of sense because he left, and only moments later guards were in your room untying you and asking questions. You didn't want to talk to them. You didn't want to believe that it had really happened. He found you. Of course he found you. You shuddered. You hated how weak he made you feel, but in those moments you knew he was only a thought away from marking you or worse. 

 

The next morning was difficult, as half the kingdom seemed to have heard about the intruder in the few hours since the incident. A darkness hung about you that you couldn't shake, and you continued to jump at shadows even in the light of day.

“Elen! Are you okay? Let me see your wrists. What happened?!” Dís couldn’t seem to contain her worry, tripping over one question to ask the next. 

“It really wasn’t that big of a deal…” You tried, but she would have none of it.

“Stop it. You’ve been hiding something and I’ve done well enough letting it slide this long, but the moment you were tied up in MY halls, that was over.” You hung your head.

“This may be a bit upsetting.” You tried to find the words, your hands lightly tracing the part of your wrist that was irritated from the rope. 

“When my father took me to Numenor… New Numenor, whatever you want to call it… I was nearly of age. Well, they needed people and… Adad needed money. A captain’s son took a liking to me and, despite my protests, my father accepted his request for my hand. It didn’t seem that bad at first. He determined that we would be wed as soon as the palace was built. That was fine; it would take forever to rebuild anything akin to Armenelos. And it has, but Zorzagar began to change once Adad ran off with the money. I had no one to protect me and I became like some sort of animal for him to torment. When I got your letter, I realized there was hope for me here.” You realized at that point that you were shaking, and Frerin came in to sit beside you and steady you. You would’ve asked how much he heard, but it really didn’t matter anymore.

“I won’t go back.” You said earnestly, and Dís just hugged you.

“No you won’t.” Frerin agreed, and you felt better just knowing they would be your strength.

“You’re going to have to stay with me.” Dís decided. “Fíli will be glad to have you there, anyways. He’s always looking for someone new to drag into axe practice.” She smiled. You wouldn’t be alone. 

“There’s just one thing I have to take care of.” Frerin looked nervous in a way you hadn’t seen before, and it chilled you. He looked you dead in the eyes and you knew what he was about to do, but you were not on board.

“No - he doesn’t need this on his plate. He’s got enough to do with his Crown Prince-ly duties.” You finished dumbly, and Frerin shook his head as he walked out of the room. This day was about to get even worse.


	5. Stuck

“She WHAT?!” Thorin’s shout could be heard easily from your hiding place in the hallway. Obviously he wasn’t happy, and once again it was your fault for coming back to this confusing mess of a place. The rest of the conversation was kept at a decently mild level, at least mild enough that you couldn’t hear it in the hall. Even so you waited impatiently for Frerin to come out and tell you just how badly it went over. Instead, you tripped over yourself trying to flee the Crown Prince as he barreled at you. The thud of your head hitting the stone floor was not the first sign of trouble, but it definitely didn’t make it feel any less intense. You felt desperately faint, but you were determined not to be further embarrassed.  
“Elen, what in Arda were you thinking?!” Thorin shouted at you, lifting you by the shoulders as if you were a paper doll. As soon as he saw your face he took a step forward and grabbed you around the waist.  
“FRERIN, GET OÍN!” He looked at you with an expression you hadn’t seen in years. Concern. You wanted to smile at how stupid it made him look, but you were suddenly aware of the steady flow of blood from your forehead.  
The next thing you knew, Thorin was carrying you like a child into his room where Oín met him and looked you over carefully. You absentmindedly batted at his hands as he tried to clean you up and Frerin and Thorin were asked to hold you down. Somewhere in the moment that your arms were pinned down, you lost it. You were screaming and kicking, writhing and Oín looked perplexed.  
“Talk to her and calm her down. She’s delirious from the blood loss and obviously something of   
last night’s attack is affecting her. I need to get that artery closed before she’s lost to us.” Oín ordered, and your world faded.  
When you woke you were terrified. You couldn’t bring yourself to move for more than a shallow breath, willing your eyes to stay shut as if it could protect you from whatever lay on the other side. It wasn’t until you heard hushed talking that you dared open your eyes. Thorin was sitting in a chair near your bedside saying something to Oín who noticed you stirring.  
“Ah, Elen. Glad to see you’re coming to. Thorin here has refused to leave your side all night.” He grunted as Thorin kicked him in the shin.  
“I wanted to be sure your visitor did not have any further access to you against your wishes.” He huffed. You laughed, wincing at the headache you were suddenly all too aware of.  
“You lost a lot of blood, lass. Might want to get that dress hemmed.” Oín said, bowing to take his leave.  
“Thank you, Master Oín. I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.” You sighed, resting your head back on the feather pillow. It was then that you realized this was not the room you thought you were in. No, indeed, this was not your room at all. The bed was far too comfortable and the room went well beyond what was lit by the small candle on the ornate nightstand. You hoped to Mahal that you weren’t in Thorin’s bed, but that was not a conversation you could have at the moment. The headache was winning out over your curiosity.  
“Elen, before you rest again…” Thorin’s voice was tender and you couldn’t ignore whatever he wanted to say, though you wanted to run and hide. “This human; this Zorzagar - he will not have you as long as you wish it. Erebor will protect you. I will protect you.” You could barely see his face from the candle light, but his voice said everything you needed to hear at that moment, and the world blurred into nightmares. 

When you woke the next morning, you sat up quickly, the sudden motion making you lightheaded. You looked to the chair where Thorin had been sitting, but found instead a well armed Frerin. He looked up from his book and smiled.  
“Feeling better, Elen? Oín said to make sure you took it easy today. No getting up.” He saw the look of confusion on your face and explained, “Thorin had to get to a meeting this morning, but he stayed by your side all night. He asked me to step in and make sure you were safe in his absence.” He smiled and you scolded yourself for expecting more personal care from the crown prince.   
“You don’t have to stay with me constantly, Frerin. I’m not broken. Just a little lightheaded.” You said, gently pressing your temples.   
“It’s not your injury we’re worried about.” He replied gravely. “Zorzagar hasn’t been found, but until we’re sure he is well past gone, you will have someone with you at all times.”   
And so there was. You could barely get peace to use the chamber pot without someone watching you. The day you got fed up with it was unluckily Gloin’s day to keep watch over you, and the poor dwarf had no clue how to deal with your tongue.  
“I’m not a prisoner, I think I’d like to dress alone.” Your glare was louder than your voice and he shuffled awkwardly into the doorway.  
“I’ll be just outside the door, m’lady.” He conceded, taking one last glance around the room before leaving. The moment the door shut you breathed a sigh of relief. You wanted to be thankful for the concern shown on your behalf, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being more trapped than you were on that island. You sat on the edge of your bed for a moment, eyeing the elegant green dress that you intended to wear that day. It didn’t feel right. Sure, you could be soft and gentle, but today you wanted to go to the forest, not another tea with Dís’ ladies.   
Thorin can have my head if he wants, I need my air. You decided, pulling out your walking clothes. Simple brown trousers and a tunic with a brown vest. Your dark brown cloak completed the disguise, and you prayed that Gloin would understand. When you walked through the door he looked about ready to kill you himself.  
“No, no, Lady Elen, you’re to go to tea. I cannot handle THIS.” He gestured at your attire and you smiled.  
“You don’t have to. I think I can handle myself. It’s daylight and I promise not to wander far. I just need to breathe. Free of the oh-so-friendly leash that’s been tied around my neck.”  
“Apologies, m’lady, but that leash is there to keep you alive.” He said firmly. You huffed at his resolve and were just preparing to go back into your chambers to change when Frerin grabbed you by the arm.  
“What in Durin’s name are you doing in this?!”  
“Nothing.” You spat. You cringed inwardly - Frerin didn’t mean anything and you’d snapped at him like he was the enemy.  
“Look, El, Thorin’s given Gloin his orders and if you try to break free from him you’ll be putting him in a position to lose his rank.” Gloin looked absolutely horrified at this statement.  
“I’m on my way in to change for tea. Could you just leave me alone?!”   
“No. I’m not going to leave you alone. I’m not going to find out he’s come and taken you from right under my very nose just because you’re too stubborn and independent to let us protect you.”   
“Then at least find some way to keep me from going stir crazy!” You leaned into the wall, waiting for his response.   
“You’ve never been to the Durin’s day celebrations before…” Frerin smirked and you got the feeling he had more than a party up his sleeve.  
“I'm listening…”  
“Get your mind off of how stuck you are. We have five days until the party. It’ll be the perfect opportunity for you to confess to Thorin.” The cheeky smile he gave you was enough to make you want to punch him.  
“I doubt that’s a good idea.” You whispered.  
“And why not? You said you were bored.”  
“Boredom doesn’t constitute a confession. Besides I'm fairly certain any feelings Thorin might have had years ago have either vanished or turned cold over time. Aside from making sure I survived the night I fell, he hasn't made time to even look at me much less talk to me.”  
Frerin looked perplexed. “Then how about a test.”   
“And how would you propose I work that one out?”  
He opened the small box on your table with your only prized possession: the hairpiece your father made for your mother.   
“He’ll never fall for it.” You said, rolling your eyes.   
“He might fall for it if he thinks it’s from me.” His face was so hard to read, but something told you he wasn’t wrong. You and Frerin knew each other just as long and had been seeing each other much more often now with this Zorzagar business. But would you be able to come back from it if Thorin did believe it?


	6. Catharsis

     You stared down at your mother’s hair piece. Frerin was right; this was your best shot at finding out whether or not Thorin held the same feelings as you, but you still didn’t like the idea of practically lying to him. To a Dwarf, this beautiful of a hair piece would only be a symbol of the most serious courting. Thorin would know you were aware of the Dwarf customs, and hopefully you would find a reaction from him with it and be able to brush it off as nostalgically wearing the only thing you had left of your mother’s. Honestly even if it worked to your favor, it could backfire tremendously, but you had to know. And so you let Frerin make quick work of your hair and clipped it into place with the silver chained hairpiece ornately decorated with a multitude of small diamonds. It played against your raven black hair beautifully, like stars in the midnight sky. You released one last shaky sigh before standing to own your new scheme.

     Durin’s Day was the one holiday your father and Uncle Balin demanded you not participate in before you left. It was improper and dangerous, they said, for a Human barely of age, to attend a celebration so intense. Well you were no longer barely of age, and as short as you were, your status as a human was questionable at best.

     It was definitely a party unlike any other you had ever attended. You swept through the crowd in your deep blue gown with ease. Looking back, it may have been that determined and almost angry look on your face. You composed yourself and slowed your steps as you neared Frerin and Dís who greeted you with mischievous grins.

     “Wipe the smiles off your faces before you give me away.” You hissed quickly, noticing Thorin’s approach. Suddenly you lost all your nerve. Your hands went to fidget with your skirt, and your eyes refused to meet his face. The four of you stood in silence for more than a moment until you knew you had to look him in the eye before he would speak.

     Whatever reaction you and Frerin had hoped for, this was not it. He still would not speak, the light in his eyes giving way to a cold darkness that let you know you had gone far past the line.

     “It’s my-” before you could utter another syllable he had turned and disappeared into a crowd of drunken Dwarves fighting over who knows what. You looked to Frerin and Dís who wore looks of complete shock.

     “Come on, help me out here!” You groaned.

     “I think we’ve done more than enough.” Dís replied, stepping back.

     “At least you know now?” Frerin offered awkwardly. You had to find him.

     You searched the crowds, with his height it should be difficult to hide, but somehow be it the light or the sea of decorations and kegs, he disappeared just as easily as any other dwarf. Suddenly you spotted him disappearing down a corridor on the other side of the Great Hall. You tried your best to be aware of your surroundings as you chased after him, but that didn’t stop you from knocking over a few tankards and plates and stepping on one poor Dwarf’s foot. If you had time to apologize, you would have, but all that mattered right then was repairing what damage you had done to your relationship with Thorin.

     What relationship with Thorin? The bitter thought squeezed your insides as you continued to follow after him. Damn he was fast for a dwarf.

     “I’ll congratulate you later. Please leave me.” His lack of fire killed you.

     “Please…” You weren’t sure what you wanted to say, but somehow to make it all go away. “It wasn’t my idea. It’s not real. I was stupid for thinking it would do anything but harm, or maybe my judgment was clouded by my feelings, but I went along with it nonetheless. I’m so sorry…” You fell to your knees in desperation.

     He looked at you for a moment, his eyes wary but somewhat shocked that you were kneeling. He looked as if he would say something, but suddenly decided against it and walked away again, leaving you to your tears on the cold stone floor.

 

     The next three days were spent moping in bed, a worried but busy Balin sending friends over constantly to check in on you and make sure you ate. It was a struggle to think of more than the fact that you had made a total fool of yourself. It was a stranger that entered your chambers to pull you out of bed and throw clothes at you. You would have bothered to ask his name or who sent him but, assuming the latter to be your worried guardian, you slipped the clothes on as soon as he left.

      _Thorin is busy._ You reassured yourself. There’s no chance of running into him as long as I stay away from the main halls.

     And stay away you did. Once you wandered into the gardens, all thoughts of shame and worry were washed away by the smell of Spring. A cool breeze played with your hair, carrying the scent of flowers and freshly upturned earth. You found your favorite spot by the pink Jasmine which Nori left untended for your enjoyment. You carefully picked off the flowers which had seen too much sun or rain and melted into white-brown clumps, humming an old Numenorean tune. You were smiling again, taking in the rich, intoxicating scent of the Jasmine when a hand gently clasped your shoulder. You froze, a knot of fear forming in your stomach.

     “You know, it took me an hour and a half to track you all the way here.” Thorin whispered. You couldn’t tell for sure for the volume of his voice, but it sounded almost raspy. You didn’t want to turn; to look him in the eye. You didn’t want to talk about what had transpired, but you also didn't want to pretend it hadn't happened. Honestly you didn’t know WHAT you wanted, but it wasn’t to talk to Thorin right then. Still, your body moved and you looked into those captivating eyes. The fire in them was dimmed, dark bags hung underneath unexpectedly. You hoped he would smile, maybe wished it, but you couldn’t smile either. You closed your eyes, maybe to pretend he wasn’t there or maybe to hope that this was just another bad dream. Either way, it didn’t work.

     His hand slowly left your shoulder and its warmth was immediately missed. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you short before you could will a sound out of your lips.

     “Frerin told me. Maybe it wasn’t his place, but he did nonetheless. I'm sorry I wouldn’t listen, but that was going too far. After everything with that man… to see you like that...” He wanted to say more, but swallowed it before continuing.

     “I cannot be with you.” Whether he wanted it or not was not the question, and you knew exactly why. Even so, it broke your heart again. “You are wonderful, Elen but I am to be King under the Mountain and that comes with certain responsibilities. One of which is to provide a pure heir to the throne.” At this point you wanted to hit him. Claw him. You didn’t know what, but reminding you of your greatest flaw, the one thing you could not change about yourself, the one thing you hated about yourself for so long… now that was crossing a line.

     “I get it. Can I go now, your majesty?” You curtsied and he grabbed your wrist, pulling you close to him.

     “Do not think I will lose you.” He growled, his eyes like a blue fire.

 _So what?_ You thought, bitter and confused. _I belong to you now? Again, just a thing to be possessed by a man?_

     He stormed off again and you wanted to scream. Instead you hunted down the only person you could think of to take it out on.


	7. Fight

    “Sword fighting?! Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean… you seem a little… upset?” Frerin looked nervous. 

    “I am. And you owe me.” Your eyes narrowed and Frerin winced. 

    “Guess I do…” 

    You fought harder and faster than usual, but Frerin used your rage and confusion against you, letting you get distracted by your swarms of thoughts. He let you win the last round, just so you wouldn’t be more angry with him. 

    “I know Thorin pretty well, Elen. He’s working it out. I wouldn’t have told him if I wasn’t sure he felt the same way.” He tried to comfort you. 

     “He just as well said that he’ll only marry a proper dwarf, and I'm never going to live up to that standard.” You let out a frustrated sigh. 

     “He only said that because it’s what Da has been drilling into his head. You're his One, Elen, I know it. He'll work it out.” 

    As much as you wanted to believe him, the pain of waiting and wondering was too much. You closed yourself at that very moment, and stopped envisioning a future with him. Your future now was your own and yours alone. You could heed the call of the road, have an adventure and feel the freedom of running - not away from anything or to anything. Just running.

    Your days were long and still a guard stood outside your door, though it had become more relaxed since there seemed to be no sign of Zorzagar. You nearly forgot about the human who thought he could claim you, when you found a flower on your pillow with a note from him. Your blood froze and you felt suddenly vulnerable and small. He had made it back into your room past the guards and this time you didn’t know what he would do.

_ “You would do well to heed the dwarf’s words. There is no place for you here. Anyone who claims otherwise will have very little time to do so. _

_                          -Z” _

    Great. Now he was threatening everyone who loved you. You crumpled the note up and threw it in the fire along with the flower. 

    “These games come to an end tonight.” You huffed, not sure if to yourself or the possible intruder in your room. Either way, you had to come up with something fast and quietly. If he knew about your conversation with Thorin, there would be no telling if he saw or heard anything else you did. The only safe place left was within your own head.

    Three hours later, you had a fairly solid plan in place. You would fake sleep until he was well into the room. Without any clear idea of where he was entering from, you had to be sure you could hear him. You went through your things and made sure to pin your hair up with the comb you always hated. It was a simple iron piece with teeth that tended to dig into your scalp like cat claws, but if anything went awry you would have at least one defense.

    With that, you asked the guard for the time. It was nearly lunchtime and you needed to be meeting Dís and Fíli. 

    The hours dragged by, every second accented by your heartbeat. While you assumed he meant to return in the night, you couldn’t help being hypervigilant. At one point Fíli shrieked out of nowhere and you nearly fell out of your chair. You brushed it off as remnant tension from a nightmare. Much as you hated lying to Dís, any mention of the note would mean more protection and less likelihood of him finally showing his face so you could catch him and be done with him once and for all. 

    You decided to eat dinner in your room, claiming a bad headache. No one batted an eye when you retreated to your own room, and beside, you found no appetite for all the anxiousness. You finally gave in and laid in your bed, pretending to fall asleep, gown and all. 

    It was hours before anything happened and you were beginning to wonder if he was just messing with you. At least, until you heard the wooden frame of your bed creak slightly.  _ He'd been hiding above the canopy. _ You tried not to let your breathing change as you felt him grab hold of your left hand. If you let on before you had him cornered, he would bolt. So when he crept around to your right side, you started.

    You whipped up, grabbing your hair comb with your free hand and slashed at him with all your might. You must’ve honestly taken him by surprise as by the time he jumped back, he had a comb-tooth set of wounds running across his cheek. It wasn’t nearly enough damage, but you held on to your weapon as if your life depended on it. After all, it might. 

    “Looks like you've got a little of that dwarven spunk left in you after all, huh bitch?” He spat. You were terrified. Though you were slightly empowered by the blood running down his face, you hadn't gotten much further than that in your plan and you were staying to feel the panic rising in your chest. 

    “Say what you will, but I am not your toy nor your property. Whatever you promised my father in exchange for me is nullified with his death.”

    Zorzagar laughed. “You think lack of a contract will put me off? You were promised to me. It's already done.” He grabbed the comb from your hand, pressing it to your cheek. “Perhaps you'd like to match.” He threatened. You closed your eyes in resolve. Whatever he did now would be nothing compared to the punishments to follow. 

    In that thought your door opened and Zorzagar pulled out a sword and drifted into the shadows, signaling you to be quiet. A candle was lit and revealed Thorin’s face. 

    “Elen, are you alright? You didn’t eat. Should I send for -” then he noticed the rope around your left wrist. But it was too late. Zorzagar’s blade came out of nowhere and Thorin’s only defense was to throw his candle at the man. He shouted at the sting of hot wax, giving Thorin time to pull out his own blade. The only light remaining was what little drifted through the door from the hallway. Your eyes had not adjusted back to the dark or you might've seen the blades moving. As it was, you heard the pull of metal against metal, with the occasional spark as their blades hit and chipped at one another, until you heard one find its mark. You prayed to Mahal and Eru that Thorin was the victor.

    Not a moment later your own bedside candle was lit, revealing the aftermath of the battle. 

    There was blood. Everywhere. Strips of fabric from your canopy lay mangled on the floor. You could see Thorin’s chest huffing as he regained his countenance, and there was Zorzagar sitting against the wall, his shirt stained red. He was smiling. He was still alive. 

    While you were taking it in you didn’t even notice Thorin cutting you free from the rope around your hand. At least not until he was holding your hand to examine any damages done to it. 

    “Did he hurt you?” Thorin asked. The look in his eyes made you want to cry. Instead you shook your head. 

    “Not yet.” Zorzagar hissed. Thorin pointed his body blade back at the man, wincing as he did. Until then you hadn't noticed the wound on his right arm. It must've been from when Zorzagar swung at him the first time. 

    “Thorin, you're hurt!” You blurted out. Of course he knew. 

    “Go get Gloin and Oin. I'll keep an eye on our guest.” He ordered and, for the first time you were inclined to obey. 

    A few hours later, you were moved into a temporary room. While they had yours repaired and cleaned up. Zorzagar was taken to a dungeon so deep and dark that you knew you would never see him again. For the first time in years, you felt free, and that made it impossible to sleep. Your thoughts were everywhere with the different things you could do, the places you could go. 


	8. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Thank you so much for reading. I know this isn't the ending you might've expected, but that's just because it isn't the end. Thanks for bearing with me! And feedback is appreciated! Thanks so much for looking at my trash <3 
> 
> (Also I thought this was gonna get a heckelin' of a lot smuttier earlier on, but turns out that's not til part 2. See you on the other side!)

  A few weeks later you sat at dinner with Balin. 

    “What about the Iron Hills?” You asked. Balin cocked his head.

    “What of ‘em? No no, they’re no good. No match for the beauty of Erebor. Nor the food.” Balin seemed distracted at that point, thinking on his time in the Iron Hills. 

     “Still, I think I should travel.” You announced. Balin was not surprised, though his sadness was more than apparent on his face. He gave you a quick peck on the top of your head as he stood. 

    “Yes, I quite agree. Being cooped up in a mountain is not fitting for you just yet. But remember your old uncle Balin every now and then. Send crows.” You could’ve sworn you saw the sparkle of a tear forming in his eye before he turned away and left you to think. 

    Three weeks passed and you saw Thorin only in passing every now and then. His eyes trailed on you, but he made no effort to speak with you and you made no effort either. You finally told Dís and Frerin of your plan to travel and they were both taken aback. 

    “But…” Dís didn’t dare say his name. “What about the _ emergency _ ?” You chuckled.

    “He’ll find a nice dwarf princess, I'm sure. Have plenty of dwarflings.” They were shocked by how distant you seemed to the topic. 

    “Aren't you in love with him?” Frerin prodded. 

    “I am,” you admitted, “or perhaps I was, but he won’t even talk to me anymore. We have no future and that’s that. If I spend my life pining away after him it won’t do either of us any good. I'll waste away in a would-have-been and he’ll be stuck marrying someone and knowing I'm always there to resent it.” This seemed to satisfy them, though they remained unhappy at the thought of losing you again. 

    “When?” Dís finally asked. 

    You grimaced. “Tomorrow morning.” If looks could kill, you would have been murdered twice over. The rest of the day you spent with Dís and Fíli as Frerin had meetings to attend in preparation for some great feast. 

    “You’re sure we can’t sway you?” Dís asked, a worried look on her face. 

    “I need this. A fresh start, new surroundings. I'll write often!” You tried, but nothing would be enough. 

    “You only just came back.”

    “I've been back for months!”

    “Yes but you were gone for  _ twenty years.  _ You will come back won’t you?”

    “I don’t know.” You said quietly. You wanted to for her. For Frerin. Even for little Fíli. But you couldn’t stand the thought of watching Thorin with another woman at his side. 

    Dís just hugged you tightly. Her eyes darted to the door and suddenly she was saying she had to go, dragging an unhappy Fíli behind her. 

    You sat there in your sitting room for a few moments thinking of your first destination - Mirkwood - before a knock at the door broke you from your thoughts. 

    You stood to get the door, but Thorin didn’t bother to wait for you to open it. He looked angry, fierce, and most impressively dirty. He never wore dirt when he could help it, always wiping or washing it away at any given chance. You caught yourself a moment too late and let half a laugh escape your mouth. 

    “YOU.” Thorin nearly spat, and suddenly you felt angry too.

    “Oh,  _ me? _ ” You mocked, your entire body tense. “I suppose you’ve got something new to throw at me?” 

    Thorin winced, and you watched his entire demeanor melt from anger to sadness. 

    “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?” The accusation stung in its truth. You planned to slip away before he knew, or you would’ve told Dís and Frerin much sooner. 

    “I didn’t think it would matter.” You replied, unsure if that was a lie. Even if it did matter, it couldn’t. 

    “It does.” He breathed, pulling you into his arms. “Of course it does.” You wanted to cry. To forget your adventure, but you couldn’t. Or you wouldn't. Either way, you let him hold you for as long as he would. He smelled of dirt, smoke, cedar and sweat and you thought you would bottle that smell if you could. The moment passed and he stepped back, looking at you with a sadness he wouldn’t put into words. 

    “I can’t see you off tomorrow. There’s a meeting with the Mayor of Dale…” You nodded, of course he couldn’t. You hadn't expected him to. It would probably make it too hard to leave if he did. Suddenly his hand was at your cheek, lifting your gaze from his boots to his face. He had the same soft look as the morning he found you in the gardens; the morning he broke your hope and your heart alongside. And then his lips were on yours, pressing softly until your hand slipped into his hair. All the unspoken words and wants were poured into that kiss, and you let the tears fall freely. Thorin pulled back to smudge the tears from their tracks. 

    “If I find a way…” his gaze was locked on your mouth, the skin around it irritated and red from his beard. He never finished his sentence. He kissed you once more before he left, and you fell asleep that night dreaming of those kisses. 

 

    The next morning brought the headache of the previous night’s tears. You were thankful that Thorin was unable to see you for the state you were in. Frerin too was required to attend the meeting, but Balin had pulled every string in the kingdom to get out of it himself to see you off. It was a small goodbye, but Balin handed you a pouch, presumably of food, and patted your face. Dís held Fíli up so he could give you a big hug before giving you one herself. 

    “The fires of Erebor burn cold without you.” She whispered. 

    You smiled at her, “And all the jewels of kings dim without your presence.” 

 

    It was about three hours into your trek when you decided to rest and eat a bit. As you hoped, Balin sent you with a horde of jerky and dried berries. In a small pocket of the sack lay a note. 

 

_    “Don’t forget your way home. _

_             -Thorin” _

   

    You wanted to treasure it, and at the same time, you wanted to burn it. So you tucked it back in the pocket it came from, and went West. Perhaps, one day, you would find a place where it didn't matter whose daughter you were. Perhaps, you could find a place for yourself where men wouldn't see you as an item to own. And perhaps you could find somewhere to call home.


End file.
